Southern Legacy: Completed Version

by Jerri Hines

  Cullen supposed it was to be expected when one conquers a proud, stubborn people. If he allowed, the thought that these were his own people would gnaw at his very soul. Cullen had to remind himself of his commander’s words. Farragut had declared that in all their actions we are compelled to do this in defense of our people and the honor of our flag. He believed in those words and held to them.

  The war had become a bloodbath. At times, the reason for the conflict seemed a distant notion of a wrong against another. Now, the reason meant little. The moment they took up arms against one another, there had been no turning back. All that mattered was that the North was victorious at all cost.

  Before the war, Cullen remembered the enormous antislavery sentiment in the North, but there had also been a strong anti-Negro attitude. Now, it had become plain that the white Northerners, although against slavery, had no wish to deal with the prospect of what freeing the slaves would mean. The politicians and their constituencies did not want an influx of ex-slaves into their towns and cities.

  The North had not anticipated the massive slave escapes and with the flood of black refugees, there had been no plans about how to care for these newfound freedmen. Many escapees found themselves in worse physical conditions than they had known on the plantations.

  They were herded into camps and set up in tents with rations in exchange for work. The blacks were put to work in much the way Southern troops used them: building fortifications, digging latrines, and cleaning the camps. Blacks frequently complained that their Union supervisors treated them worse than their former masters and overseers. In truth, many Union soldiers resented having to serve in the war, especially those who were draftees, and they blamed the blacks for their predicament.

  No, Cullen reconciled, there would be much to be overcome after this war. First, though, it had to come to an end. The frustrating part was it seemed never-ending. Supplies to the South had to be low and morale had to be even lower. Yet, they fought on.

  Like caged animals, the Rebels fought at Vicksburg, yielding only after a stranglehold on the city. After the fall of Vicksburg, Grant had a better understanding of the heart of the South, especially after making two frontal assaults on the city.

  Losing heavy casualties, Grant backed off, deciding on a siege to cut off their supplies. The Rebs held out over forty days before they finally surrendered. With the victory came the realization that there would be only one way to end this rebellion. The heart and soul of the South had to be cut out by whatever means available.

  Never a day went by without an overwhelming sadness washing through Cullen. Wade’s death had cut him deeper than he wanted to admit to anyone, especially himself. His father’s letter bothered him more than his father would ever know:

  I feel deeply the loss of your cousin. He demonstrated the honor and dignity that they esteem to in the South. I know that his death must weigh heavily upon you. You were close to him and even though the war had come between you both, the loss will be felt greatly. Take heart, my son.

  His father understood little of his feelings. The war had changed him. Would Father be proud of his son if he knew his son hated a dead man?

  His frustration…aggravation…and concern grew with the last letter from Hugh.

  There is much that has happened since the last I wrote. I found I was unable to do so until Gavin had recovered sufficiently. Cullen, he almost died. Claiborne is so headstrong he would not listen to me when I said I wanted Gavin pulled after Heyward left. Claiborne insisted Gavin at least try to see whether he could obtain any vital information before he gave up his cover. Gavin agreed, but was almost killed for his efforts.

  It happened when Gavin was walking along King Street after making note of all the information he had collected. He was accosted by a group of ruffians led by one you know well, Buck Haynes.

  Gavin had been betrayed by one of his own men. It seems that Buck had been searching for a way back into the militia in Charleston. Buck caught wind of Gavin’s mission.

  Jonas had introduced Gavin to an old friend, Sterling Lester, who worked down at the docks. He saw the supplies loaded up for the forts and listened to the men talk. Gavin was able to gather exactly what was going in and out…from blockade-runners and the railroad. Unfortunately, as good as the information was that Sterling supplied, he had a fatal flaw—his drinking. It loosened his tongue.

  Buck got hold of Sterling…by the time Buck was done, Sterling had no tongue. I doubt Sterling held back any information he had. Thank goodness he knew nothing of our operation except for Gavin and Jonas.

  When Buck ambushed Gavin, he stabbed Gavin in the struggle. Despite being severely injured, Gavin was able to escape up the river to MB, where by some twist of fate, he was saved by Josephine. She found him along the riverbank where he had swum ashore.

  Andrew cared for him, but not before Buck rode up with a Charleston militia. Josephine saved them all by insisting the militia leave before searching the grounds. But I would be misleading you if I did not state she holds little love for anything connected to us Yankees. She has taken Wade’s death hard and seems only interested in maintaining his legacy.

  I saw her the night I went to retrieve Gavin. Andrew had brought Percival down at Gavin’s request. It was good to see the boy. I brought him some soldier figures. It should ease your mind to know that he is growing tall and seems quite happy. I was able to hide outside the window before Josephine burst into the room quite upset, for Andrew had not informed her that he had borrowed her son for a little while.

  Gavin used the opportunity to try to talk her into withdrawing back to Philadelphia. She steadfastly refused. But take heart, we are keeping an eye on your son, who, I will state, is a miniature version of yourself.

  I have heard of your recent exploits and promotion. Congratulations…

  Anger burned inside him. How dare she! Was she not free now? No longer bound by her ring and yet she stayed…refused to leave! Keeping his son within the boundaries where a war raged…with Buck loose to wreak havoc! No, he would take no more. He wrote back clearly and without reservation.

  Take Percival out! Take him out now…with or without Josephine!

  * * * *

  “Momma! Duke loves being home!”

  In the crisp November wind, Jo smiled at the sight of her son running around the front lawn. Holding a sleeping Madeline in her arms, she breathed in deeply. It was good to be back at Magnolia Bluff.

  She swore if she never set foot in Charleston again, it would be too soon. Lord have mercy on my soul! She couldn’t have taken much more of the city. The infamous charm and warmth of the inhabitants had been replaced with fear and paranoia.

  There was no more festive entertaining. The focus now centered on surviving and helping the cause. Many a day was spent volunteering at the hospital, visiting a neighbor in need or comforting a family who had lost a loved one in this dreadful conflict. A stifling, overwhelming melancholy enveloped the city.

  Occasionally, Jo glimpsed the old Charleston when she walked along the Battery with the children, sat on the piazza enjoying the cool ocean air, or attended church at St. Michael’s.

  There had been moments to celebrate. Shortly after Madeline’s first birthday, Jenna delivered a healthy son, Eugene Samuel. Never had Jo seen such joy from Derek and found herself envious of the little family, but reprimanded herself greatly. She realized any happiness snatched during this time should be held to as long as possible, much like this moment… returning to Magnolia Bluff.

  Jo shook off the guilt she felt by escaping Charleston. She had become so homesick for the plantation. All the horrible news coming from the battlefields had become wearisome and depressing. She had no desire to ever look at a newspaper again. On the lips of every person she had greeted was one sad story after another.

  Moreover, most of the benevolent friends seemed to think that Wade’s death was a badge of honor that she should wear proudly. If she was told once more her sacrifice had been needed,
she would scream. She had sacrificed enough. She had lost her husband and found herself quite selfish in not wanting to lose more.

  Despite the defiance that still ran throughout the city, Jo couldn’t deny most felt the South was living on the edge of defeat. The poor souls wanted only to find a semblance of meaning to the price that was being paid for this war. Even in victory, it seemed the South suffered defeat, as was the case at the Battle of Chancellorsville. The city fell into mourning with the loss of General Stonewall Jackson.

  Derek had declared that with Stonewall Jackson’s death, the South was dealt a severe blow. The man had been a brilliant commander and leader. Afterwards, the news from the war seemed to be followed by one defeat after another, first Gettysburg and then news came that Vicksburg fell.

  So many soldiers dying. Death…death…death. It was all around her. She could take no more.

  “Master Percival’s happy to be back.”

  Jo glanced over at Rosa, who had walked to her side. “I believe we all are.”

  “I’m just happy we arrived safe and sound. Ain’t safe, I’ll tell ya, to be on those roads, Miss Jo. Mark my words,” Rosa stated soundly. “Now let me take that little one and put her down in her bed.”

  “Rosa, don’t be overly dramatic. We were quite safe.” Jo dismissed her maid’s fear and relinquished hold of her precious daughter.

  As she watched Rosa disappear into the house, Jo realized Rosa’s apprehension came from eavesdropping on the prevalent conversation as of late—debating whether to return or stay in Charleston. Had it not been the same before they went into Charleston? Was there anywhere truly safe?

  In truth, there was nowhere else Jo wanted to be and was content with the decision to return. But the last few weeks, the dinner table had been the center of debate about the situation.

  Andrew held the concern that the family would be overwhelmed with demands upon their goodwill if they stayed in Charleston.

  “It is the neighborly thing to do…to share what we have, but there are too many hands out in Charleston. We can’t refuse. It will only cause ill will,” Andrew said. “Moreover, I believe we need to be at the plantation. Already we have lost the kitchen building at White Oaks because we have no one living there.”

  “We would be foolish not to consider the dangers faced at being at Magnolia Bluff. There have been cases of homes being burnt to the ground,” Derek argued. “I’ve heard of Yankee incursions.”

  “If we stay in Charleston, how are we going to stay self-sufficient?” Andrew countered. “I strongly feel the slaves who have remained want to continue to live at Magnolia Bluff. We have a responsibility to them as well. Furthermore, who’s to say that the Yankees won’t try to invade Charleston?”

  Finally, the decision had been made and they were home! Jo couldn’t have been happier.

  She watched her son skipping alongside his Uncle Andrew, laughing and giggling. Since the day that Yankee departed, she found a newfound confidence in her brother-in-law. He had protected her and Percival.

  Furthermore, Andrew had allowed Percival to become his shadow when he was around. For that, Jo was grateful. Percival needed a man’s influence.

  This had been the right decision. Jo felt it in her heart. Wade’s spirit lived on within the boundaries of Magnolia Bluff. This was where he would have wanted his family. It was where they belonged.

  Here the war did not exist.

  Jo reflected on the past and drew strength from what Wade had given her—his love. She would hold on to it and live one day at a time, having faith Wade watched over them.

  * * * *

  Less than a month after their return, Jo made a request for the family to dress formally for dinner. It had been quite a long time since the family entertained. The days and nights had been consumed by the need to maintain the plantation and keep the family healthy and safe.

  Surprisingly, her request had been met with unbridled enthusiasm…at least from the women. Anna and Jenna spent the better half of the afternoon readying for the night, much like they would have before the war. Mother Montgomery even promised to play a few pieces on the piano.

  For the night, she took off her mourning and donned a flowing lavender taffeta gown with a dropped V-waist, lined with ruffles up the full skirt. Rosa twisted her hair back in what once had been fashionable. She studied herself in the mirror, remembering the last time she had worn it…at the last dinner party she had attended with Wade.

  She wiped back welling tears; this was not a time for sadness. She wanted the family to enjoy the evening. Outside, a reddish glow reflected off the scattered clouds as the ball of orange lowered in the sky.

  “Momma, you look pretty.”

  Jo turned to find her young man in the doorway. “I thought I had already put you to bed, my love.”

  “But I wanna go down with ya.”

  “Not tonight.” Jo took his hand and led him back to his room. Tucking him into bed once more, she promised, “I will tell you all about it in the morning.”

  When she walked back into her room, she took the letter she received yesterday out of her top drawer. Charlotte had married and wanted Jo to share the news with the family. Charlotte had found comfort with a wounded soldier, George Williams. He owned a general store in Savannah and was the nephew of Aunt Mae on her husband’s side. Moreover, to Jo’s delight, Charlotte was expecting a baby.

  Dearest Jo, I wanted you to share in my happiness, but with the war raging around us, I succumbed to George’s desire to marry quickly and quietly. After my first marriage, I was so hesitant to marry again, but George is so different, loving and caring. He is as excited as I am about the baby. I know I should not be talking openly about such a private matter, but it is you, my oldest, most beloved friend.

  Jo was certain that Charlotte was apprehensive about how society would take her marriage with the scandal attached to her first union. Perhaps in the past, Charlotte’s worries would have been founded, but not today, not when death could lie beyond the bend. No, life needed to be celebrated each day.

  Tonight was an opportunity to live just for the moment. There was no yesterday…no tomorrow, only this moment.

  As she descended the staircase and into the dining room, Jo was delighted that everyone had followed suit. Mother Montgomery still wore black, but had changed to a white lace collar pinned with a cameo that her three boys had given her for Christmas many a year ago.

  Anna sat next to her mother in a shimmering cream gown trimmed in a deep forest green. Jo was certain it must have been Mother Montgomery’s at one time. Pearls adorned her neck as pearl droplets hung from her ears. The poor dear hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy dances and parties as had Jenna, not with her poor health and the war. Tonight, though, she shined.

  Beaming in her much-worn rose gown, Jenna sat by Derek, who also dressed for the occasion in a borrowed suit that once had been Wade’s. Rosa had altered it, shortening the pants and sleeve of the waistcoat. He looked quite dashing.

  Jenna had confided that she longed to dance with her husband. He had been self-conscious of his missing arm, but in the confines of the family’s eyes, Jenna hoped she would finally get her dance.

  The table was set with the china that had been handed down from one generation to the other for a hundred years. Mother Montgomery had taken it out of hiding for the occasion. Crystal goblets were filled with wine. A hog had been slaughtered and fresh ham, potatoes, and dinner rolls filled the table. Not the most elaborate of meals, but never had one been more appreciated.

  “You look lovely.” Andrew rose and pulled back a chair for her. “Thank you for suggesting this night. It is a much-needed relief. Tell me, though, how long are you going to tease us? What news have you promised to share?”

  “I see no reason to delay.” Jo glanced over the faces of her family. Unfolding the letter, she began, “I want to say that the last few years have been trying…We all have lost loved ones…those will never be forgotten.

  �
��Saying that, I know that my dearest husband would not want us to mourn forever. I feel Wade is with us now and always. So let us smile tonight.” She sniffled, trying desperately not to cry. The emotions weighed heavier on her than she imagined. “Family meant everything to Wade…he loved you all. Family shares in the sorrow, but over the last year, we have had the good also.

  “Jenna married and we added a new family member.” Jo smiled over at Derek, who raised his glass to her. “We have had children to add to the nursery. Each a blessing…and yesterday I received news from Charlotte she wanted me to share. She has married George—”

  “Momma.”

  Chuckles emerged, for behind Jo, Percival stood dressed in his Sunday clothes. Half buttoned, his shirt hung loosely over his pants. He wore only one shoe, but his hair was gelled backed and combed the best he could to the side.

  “Percival, I told you…”

  Andrew stepped to Percival’s rescue. “I think for tonight we could add a chair for the young man…”

  Suddenly, the sound of horse hooves, thudding as swiftly as a frightened rabbit, resonated throughout the room. Everyone’s eyes met. Immediately, chairs were pushed back and everyone rushed toward the parlor’s front windows.

  No news was ever good that was carried that swiftly. Neither was this.

  Two riders rode hard onto the lawn. Galloping madly, one drew in the reins just in time to swerve from barreling into the front steps. Laughing, he slid off his mount and stumbled toward the entrance.

  “Josephine Buchanan Wright! I’ve come to settle the score.”

  God help me! It’s Buck! Frightened, Jo stood frozen with Percival clinging to her skirt.